Heart & Soul
by Lapiz Lazuli Luna
Summary: He longed for a love that went deeper than beauty's shallow surface. She longed for a love that was worth giving her life for. This is the story of Eros and Psyche.
1. Chapter 1

"Psyche, you impudent child! What were you thinking? Did I not tell you not to stay away from those bushes?"

The seven-year-old princess bit her lip, fighting back tears of pain and humiliation. A nurse knelt before her, rubbing chamomile oil over the princess' blister-covered arms, while her mother, the queen, paced furiously before her.

"I-I'm sorry, Mother," the girl whimpered, her lip quivering. "I-I just wanted to see what those plants were …"

The queen yanked one of her daughter's wrists up and held it before her face. "Yes! And now your whole body is covered in rashes as a result. Look at it! Why must you always defy me, Psyche? Why must you always do the opposite of what I say?"

"I-I didn't know those plants would be _poisonous,_ Mother!" the little girl sobbed. "Honest, I didn't! Big Sister told me that …"

She stopped herself, her eyes flying wide.

"What?" Her mother gave her a strange look. "What did you say, Psyche?"

The princess stayed silent, but her mouth began to tremble as her sister's words resounded through her head. _Oh, those plants aren't dangerous, Psyche! They make oils that Mother puts in her lotions. If you rub the leaves over your arms and face, your skin will become as soft as rose petals. Mother just doesn't want you to try them yourself because she thinks you're not old enough. But I don't think she's right. I use them all the time and I'm only a year older than you. Go ahead and try them, Psyche!_

"It … it's nothing, Mother," the little princess stammered. Her eyes dropped to the floor, away from her mother's gaze. She would much rather face the censure of her mother than the wrath of either one of her sisters later.

After a moment, the queen let out a heavy sigh. "Well … I suppose you've learned your lesson. But take care in the future, my pretty one. I can only pray your curiosity will not be the death of you one day …"

XXXXXX

High up on Mount Olympus, a little child-goddess floated through the air, cupping her hands over her mouth as she sang into the clouds.

"_Oh, Er-os! Errrrr-ros! Come out and play with us, Er-os!_"

The tiny winged child-god crouched down lower behind the cloud that served as his hiding place. He gritted his teeth and pressed his hands over his ears. _Go away … please, just go away …_

"Here he is!"

Out of nowhere, the child-god felt tiny arms grab him by the neck and he screamed, leaping high in the air with his wings outspread. "_Eros!_" All at once a mob of little child-goddesses swarmed around him, tittering like a flock of colorful birds.

"Get off of me!" the child-god yelled, shaking his giggling attacker off of his neck.

"Aw, don't be so mean, Eros," she sang, sticking out her bottom lip.

"_Please_, play with us!" crooned her sister, clasping her little hands in front of her.

"Yes!" the rest sang, their eyes wide and pleading.

"_No!_" the child-god growled. "I don't want to play with you. Not today … not tomorrow … _not ever!_"

"_Ohhhh,_" the child-goddesses moaned in unison. But then one flew up and reached a hand toward his head. "Can't we at least play with your pretty, curly hair, Eros?"

"No!" He swatted her hand away, his face red with fury. "Why can't you girls just leave me alone?"

The child-goddesses all giggled at once, their cheeks turning pink. "Because you're so beautiful, Eros!"

"You've got such beautiful brown hair!"

"And beautiful blue eyes!"

"And beautiful white wings!"

As he tried to back away, one of the child-goddesses snuck up behind him and grabbed him by the wings, rubbing her face into them. "Oh, so _soft_ …"

"_Augh!_ Get away from me!" Whipping his wings back violently, the child-god whirled around and flew off as fast as his wings could carry him. The child-goddesses screamed out his name behind him, but he just plugged his ears to their cries. By the time his mother's palace came into view, the child-god felt as if he was going to be sick.

He flew straight through the main entrance and the series of hallways that led to his mother's chambers. He finally found her seated before her full-length mirror, singing to herself and running a comb through her long, glistening golden hair. "Mother!" he cried, throwing himself onto her lap. His little body shook against hers as he buried his face in her breast and began to sob.

"Eros?" The goddess' arms instantly went about her son. "Oh, my dear little cherub. What is the matter?"

"They won't leave me alone, Mother!"

"Who, my love?"

"Those _girls_, Mother! They won't stop chasing me and they won't stop … _touching_ me!"

The goddess of love let out a hearty laugh. "Oh, my poor little cherub. Is that all?" She stroked a hand through his curls. "Well, what can you expect? That is simply the price of being beautiful, my love."

The child-god's fists tightened. _Beautiful. _Since the day he was born, that word had been rained down on him over and over like a curse, crushing him like Hephaestus' hammer. Even the elder goddesses subjected him to the constant torture of cheek pinches and hair tugs and caresses and coos, all while exclaiming, "_Oh! What a beautiful little god! Isn't he the most beautiful little child-god you have ever seen?_"

He felt his mother's full lips press themselves against the crown of his head. "Why do you despair? Do you not like that everyone loves you, my cherub?"

The child-god's head shot up, his face red and streaked with tears. "No, Mother. They do not love me. They only love me because I'm _beautiful_."

His mother shrugged. "That is the nature of the gods, my son. They swarm to beauty like bees to a honeycomb. Just be grateful that our beauty will never fade unlike those poor mortals on Earth. Many a god cast aside a mortal woman he loved the moment she lost her bloom and her petals shriveled."

The child-god's eyes grew narrow, disgusted. "That's not real love, Mother. Not really. If you really love someone, you should not care about what they look like."

"What's this?" Aphrodite tapped her son's nose. "My son already shows knowledge of the nature of love? What a wise little god you're already proving to be, my love."

"You …" The child-god swallowed, his eyes vulnerable and questioning. "You really do love me … don't you, Mother?"

Aphrodite's blue eyes grew soft and she kissed her son upon the cheek. "With all my heart, my handsome little cherub."

_Handsome!_ The child-god stiffened in his mother's arms. Even _she _could not proclaim her love for him without mention of his beauty! Blind to his disgust, the goddess pulled her son close into her rose-scented embrace. But the child-god felt no warmth. All he could feel was ever-sinking despair.

If only there was someone in this world who didn't care about what he looked like …


	2. Chapter 2

_Ten years later …_

"WHAT!" The foundations of Olympus shook and birds went flying as the shrill shriek of a goddess ripped through the air. Within the palace of Aphrodite, two handmaidens cowered before their livid mistress, whose eyes blazed down upon them like the fires of Hades threatening to incinerate them where they knelt.

"H-her name is Psyche, oh great and beautiful one," one handmaiden stammered. "She is the princess of a tiny kingdom near Delphi."

"And her people _dare_ to compare her beauty to _mine?_" Aphrodite screeched "They leave _my_ temple to give her _my_ offerings? To pray to _her_ and perform _my _ceremonies to _her__?_"

The other handmaiden swallowed. "Y-yes, oh majestic one. These foolish mortals falsely believe her to be your very reincarnation."

"_Blasphemy!"_ With an earsplitting scream, the goddess flipped over a table of fruit and sent it crashing to the floor. She whirled upon her handmaidens, her glorious hair in wild disarray, her perfect teeth bared and her delicate nostrils flared. "Show her to me! Show me this _mortal _princess they dare to worship instead of me."

With shaking hands, one handmaiden held up a mystical hand mirror – a portal allowing the gods to see into the human world. Aphrodite snatched up the mirror and glared into its enchanted glass, her nose wrinkled as if in disgust. Then, after a moment, a cruel smile spread across her face. She threw her head back and began to cackle wildly.

"_This girl?_" she shrieked. "Those mortal idiots imagine this pale, scrawny, _plain-looking _little girl to be my reincarnation? Ha!" She shoved the mirror into her handmaidens face. "Look at her! Look how pathetically _flat_ her breasts are compared to mine! Look at that frizzy hair. That crooked nose. Those thin little lips. Are humans really so _blind?_ This girl is a pile of pig feces next to me!"

"Y-y-yes, oh glorious one," the two handmaidens spluttered in unison.

With a furious snarl, the goddess flung the mirror against the wall so that it shattered into a thousand pieces. The handmaidens ducked their heads, shielding their faces from the shower of glass, while their mistress began to pace about the room.

"This girl must be _punished_," she muttered bitterly. "She must serve as an example to all who dare to compare their meager looks to mine. It is _offensive_ that they should think me to be as plain and homely as that little mortal _wench._" She spun toward her handmaidens. "My son! Where is he?"

"O-out in the archery fields, oh exquisite one."

A devious grin spread across the goddess' face, her sapphire eyes gleaming with menace. She kicked at the glass shards about her feet. "Excellent. Now clean up this mess. I will fetch my son. His archery skills will serve my purpose well …"

XXXXXXXXX

"My son, if you hold your arm taut like that any longer, it will start to shake and you will miss the target entirely."

Eros narrowed his eyes, focusing his attention ahead and not on the war god hovering over his shoulder. "I know what I'm doing, Father."

"Yes, which is precisely why you've been standing like this for the past five minutes and have yet to fire a single shot."

Eros rolled his eyes, took in a deep breath and released it slowly. _Concentrate, Eros. Just concentrate._ He tightened his grip on the bow and steadied his arm. He trained his eyes on the target, drawing the arrow back just an inch …

"_EROS!"_

The young god's arm jerked back and his arrow went flying, vanishing into the clouds.

Eros stared open-mouthed after the path of the lost arrow. "What … _augh!_" With a frustrated yell, he threw his quiver of arrows onto the ground and spun about. "Mother, what …!"

The goddess of love just smiled at him calmly, beckoning with one finger. "Come here, my sweet cherub," she sang in a syrupy voice. "Your mother has urgent need of you."

Eros groaned instantly. He knew that tone. His mother wanted him to exact another one of her twisted little revenge plots. He shot his father a pleading glance, but the god of war just backed away, his hands lifted in surrender. "Sorry, son," he whispered. "This is one battle where I cannot side with you. Now don't keep your mother waiting or else there will be hell to pay for the both of us."

With a heavy sigh, the young winged god cast his bow aside and flew over to where his mother stood waiting. The goddess of love grinned and seated herself primly atop one of the clouds, gesturing for her son to kneel down and lay his head upon her lap.

"Oh, my handsome cherub," she crooned, combing her fingers through his bronze curls and not noticing the way he flinched when she said _handsome._ "There is a plain little mortal princess on the Earth below who has insulted my supremacy. I need you to avenge me and teach that little wench a lesson she will never forget."

Eros glanced up at her questioningly. Oh, a _princess_, now was it? And what precisely did his mother expect for him to do? Make this princess fall in love with some enemy ruler and destroy two kingdoms through war? Or perhaps he'd do to her as he did to Pasiphae and make her fall in love with a bull so that she birthed a hideous monster.

"Take your bow down to the Earth and shoot an arrow through the princess' heart," Aphrodite hissed. "And see to it that she falls in love with the filthiest and most hideous creature you can find so that she mates with it and bears hideous beasts that no human eye can bear to gaze upon."

Ah, so it was the latter. Eros fought back a shudder of revulsion when he remembered the cruel fate that had befallen Pasiphae. "Very well, Mother. What sort of creature would you like me to use?"

The goddess smiled and ran a finger along her son's flawless cheek. "I trust you can use your imagination, my love. You always were as wise as you were beautiful." She leaned forward and pressed a kiss to his forehead. "Well, go on now, my darling cherub. See to it that it is done. Let the princess' disgrace be so great that the mortals shall mock her memory for all time."

Eros sighed inwardly, fighting to hide his disgust, and kissed the goddess' hand. "As you wish, Mother."


	3. Chapter 3

Eros groaned with exhaustion as he knelt down by the stream and splashed water on his face. He then cupped his hands and splashed some of the water across his bare shoulders and back, releasing a contented sigh as the liquid cooled his skin. The young god had been flying nonstop for hours and his wings ached horribly as a result. The shoulder which bore his quiver was especially sore and he reached up to knead out the tired muscles.

Opening his eyes, he glanced about, taking in the lush tranquility of the forest. The goddess he sought was nowhere in sight. Well, this was her sacred stream. She was bound to show up sooner or later. He glanced back down toward the water and his expression turned into a glower. The water here was so clear that it captured every detail of his reflected visage. The sun's rays highlighted the streaks of gold in his bronze-colored curls – a trait he inherited from his father. His blue eyes, however, were a gift from his mother, except his were softer and warmer. The rest of him was a perfect blend of the best features of both his parents. His face held a gentle, boyish sort of splendor with full lips, long eyelashes and features that appeared to be carved out of the smoothest ivory. And while he was somewhat slight compared to many of the other gods, his body was a still masterpiece of lean, rippling muscles.

All his life Eros had been venerated for his beauty. Goddesses longed to look at him, to touch him, and to have him in their beds. And he hated it. He despised the shallowness of it all. He loathed being so objectified by everyone, including his own mother, who reveled in her own meaningless adulation.

How many of these adoring goddesses had ever cared to have a real conversation with him? They threw flowers in his path, but would they ever actually sit down and talk with him? They proclaimed their love for him, but did they really know him at all? Secretly, Eros longed for someone he could connect with on a deeper level. Someone who saw his physical beauty as simply a bonus if not entirely inconsequential. He longed to find someone with whom he could share his ideas, his fears, his doubts and his very deepest thoughts. Someone who knew him as a whole person, body and soul. Someone who wanted him and loved him for his entire being.

Eros saw no such love on Mt. Olympus. Over the centuries the great Zeus left a long string of former lovers in the dust, goddess and mortal alike. His own parents scarcely ever spoke to each other after that one night of passion that resulted in his conception. And his mother's _real_ husband, the god of the forge Hephaestus, received not a single ounce of affection or loyalty from her.

Eros shook his head to himself at the irony. His own mother, the goddess of love, seemed just as incapable of fidelity as all the rest.

The mortals were no better. From the moment he learned to fire an arrow, his mother tasked Eros with the responsibility of inspiring desire in mortal hearts. He used to find great amusement at pairing the most opposite of personalities he could find and then watching men and women pant after their paramours like dogs after a juicy piece of pork. He'd laugh at their foolishness, at the ridiculous pictures they made, at the absurd lengths they would go to just to make their lovers acknowledge their existence.

And still there were times when his heart would turn warm and molten at the sight of two lovesick mortals wrapped happily in each other's arms.

But the young god quickly realized just how fickle the mortal heart could be. His arrows, though potent, were but a small spark to ignite the fires of human longing. It fell to the humans themselves to stoke such fires and to keep them fed so that they evolved from a momentary blaze into something far more enduring. Eros' heart clenched at the memory of those abandoned lovers – the victims of desires that burned out and turned cold in the face of pregnancy, or hardship, or the weathering of age, or even sheer boredom. Such faces of despair made him resentful of his appointed task. Yes. Eros, the god of desire, had turned cold and disillusioned to the very idea of love_._ For if love really was so shallow – merely a flicker of heat that blows out at the slightest breath of wind – then why bother yearning and dreaming and chasing after such a thing?

Perhaps his arrows best served him when they were kept packed in his quiver where they belonged.

"And what are _you_ doing here?"

The sound of that cold, feminine voice broke Eros out of his thoughts. He glanced up just as the lithesome figure of the goddess of the hunt stepped out from amongst the trees. The goddess' long raven hair was loose and windblown from her recent hunt, her steps as light and graceful as a gazelle's. And her sharp gray eyes fixed the winged god with a steely gaze that radiated hostility.

"Artemis," Eros greeted with a smile. "How do you do on this fine day?"

"Dispense with the formalities." She stepped further out of the shadows, revealing the bow she had poised at the ready at her side, one arrow notched and pointed toward the ground. "Why does the winged god of desire presume he can trespass onto _my_ hunting grounds?"

Eros was neither surprised nor offended by this cold reception. As the maiden goddess, Artemis was understandably wary of a god who was born to inspire desire and lust. Eros' feelings toward the goddess were quite different; as she _was_ the maiden goddess, she was one of the few female deities he could stand to be around.

A chorus of feminine gasps suddenly resounded from the distance. Eros glanced past the goddess to see a small collection of women – her maidens, he assumed – gawking at him from behind the bushes with flushed faces and gleaming eyes. Growling in irritation, Artemis turned and shot them a deadly look. "_Stay there._" She swung back to face Eros and tightened her grip on her bow. "I won't ask you again. Tell me what you want, Eros_."_

"I'm not here to cause trouble, Artemis. I simply need your help."

"Help?" Her eyes narrowed. "And what sort of help would the son of Aphrodite require of _me?_"

"I need a boar."

"A boar?" The goddess relaxed her stance. "Oh, is that all? Well, alright." She gestured toward the trees. "Go on then. Help yourself."

Eros rubbed the back of his neck. "Well … actually, I was hoping you could ensnare one _for_ me."

"What?" Artemis stared at him incredulously for a moment. Then her eyes widened and she sneered. "Oh, that's right. I'd forgotten moving targets was your Achilles heel."

Eros scowled at her. "Come on, Artemis. I need that boar and I don't have much time."

"Not so fast. Just what would you be needing this boar for, exactly?"

He sighed tiredly. "The princess of this land has offended my mother. I've been tasked with exacting revenge on the one who dares to compare herself to the goddess of love."

"_Psyche,_" Artemis said with a nod. "Ah, yes. I figured Aphrodite would catch wind of that sooner or later. And what plan of revenge has your mother cooked up for the poor princess?"

"She is to fall in love with a hideous creature. I figured a boar would serve that purpose well."

Artemis wrinkled her nose in revulsion. "Ugh, that sounds worse than what you did to Pasiphae. I know this princess, Eros. She doesn't deserve such a barbaric punishment. She is a sweet girl, really. Very innocent." The goddess stopped then, her eyes widening slightly. "And … I also happen to know that she is still a virgin_._"

_Oh, Tartarus._ "B-but surely she isn't a sworn celibate …"

"It doesn't matter," Artemis said brusquely. She swung on her heel and made her way back towards the trees. "Go catch your own boar. I can't help you."

"Wait!" Eros cried and clasped his hands together in front of his chest. "Oh please, mighty, graceful, beautiful Artemis. You know full well my skills at the hunt are simply wretched compared to yours."

"Those charms may work on most female deities, _h__andsome,_ but not me. You know my principles, Eros. I will not betray a maiden. You should be thankful I'm simply turning a blind eye and not driving you out of my forest with an arrow in your butt." She pointed her bow toward the East without turning around. "You'll find plenty of boars that way. Just keep away from my maidens and you won't get any trouble from me, understand?"

Eros clenched his fists in frustration. "Whatever you say, oh cold and shrewish one."

Artemis let out a laugh but still refused to turn. She inclined her head toward her maidens. "Come on, ladies." She took three more steps. Her maidens did not move. "_I said, come on!_"

All at once, the besotted maidens moaned in misery. With great reluctance, they moved to follow their mistress while waving and blowing kisses to Eros over their shoulders. With a snort of disgust, Eros took to the air and flew off into the trees without so much as a second glance.

Even in a forest of celibate maidens he couldn't find a moment's peace.


End file.
